A Literary Enigma
by PPygmyPuff
Summary: She had just been hit by a car. It had gone right through her. "So, I'm dead then?" "Kid, you're dead. Just not gone." Who knew death would involve landing in the world of your favourite book? At least she still had Jamie...
1. The Beginning

Chapter 1 – The Beginning

The traffic roared to life as the door swung open to reveal the murky atmosphere. Caroline "Carrie" Lewis stepped out into the world outside and promptly rolled her eyes.

_Typical_. The weather had been perfectly sunny and warm for months now, but the one day she needed sun, it decided to storm.

_Welcome to Australia,_ she thought with a grimace. Honestly, it was like the country purposefully made life difficult for its' inhabitants. Plus, it was a _summer_ storm in Queensland. Which meant...hot, humid and not at all a fun time. Luckily the rain was beginning to die down, only a few stray rain drops daring to remain under the acid glare of one angry Aussie.

Okay, so maybe not _angry_ so much as frustrated. Carrie had no idea why she had agreed to this stupid endeavour anyway. It wasn't as if she owed Owen anything. In fact, if anything, it was Owen who owed _her_. And not just in the, potentially hundreds, dollars of debt in which he found himself in (Carrie was never one to refuse a few dollars here and there for a worthy cause – and Owen had seriously mastered the puppy-dog eyes in the six years he had known her), but he was so low in favours that he would probably have to spend the next ten years in charity work for The Carrie Foundation to ever make a _dent_ in his debt.

But no. Carrie was just too bloody _nice_ to say no to the boy. He sounded desperate and Carrie was free so...why not help?

So that was how Carrie found herself leaving her house on what had to be the _worst_ summer's day in the history of bad summer's days, her viola Jamie in tow, and a fake smile in her pocket.

_Ugh, why do I do this to myself EVERY. BLOODY. TIME?_

Slamming the door gently behind her (God forbid she break the glass in it or anything) and grumpily jamming the key carefully into the lock (after all, the door _was_ quite finnicky), Carrie turned around to face her day.

With a deep breath of damp air, she stepped out of the doorway.

"One small step for man." She muttered under her breath, eliciting a tiny giggle which made her feel _marginally_ better. "Just remember why you're doing this, Carrie. It doesn't matter that you feel uncomfortable around Blake, or that Rachel would sooner eat her make-up brush than deign to even _look_ at you."

Carrie grimaced again. Not the best way to go about making herself feel any better about the situation. She shook her head, "It's for Owen. He wouldn't ask if it weren't important."

And it was true. As much as Owen owed Carrie, he only called a favour when it was _really_ (insert fond eye-roll here) important. He was, for all intents and purposes, a good friend. It wasn't like he never gave and only took from Carrie; it was just that Carrie never really needed any favours. Plus, she really _did_ like helping Owen out.

She shook her head fondly at the thought of her friends. In school, it had been the five of them, spending lunchtimes coming up with ploys to blow up the science block, apocalyptic survival plans, assassination attempts on Donald Trump (hey, you've all thought about it), the lot. You name it, they probably discussed it.

For five years, they were inseparable. The New and Improved Famous Five, affectionately called the NIFFlers (cause no-one's not a fan of HP), stuck together through thick and thin, spring and autumn, hot and...okay so they got a little short-tempered in the winter but hey! Those school uniforms were _not_ designed with the cold in mind.

Despite small little niggling spats now and again, the NIFFlers were sure to be there for one another. Until the unthinkable happened...

They graduated. (DUN DUN DUUUUUN!)

It all happened rather quickly. After graduation, the group chat, which had been active every day for the past four years, survived twelve name-changes and currently sported a rather unflattering group picture, died. It simply dried up. No new content, no more devious plots, nothing. Nada, the end.

It seemed that the NIFFlers were no more.

You see, as often happens in life after a major shake-up, the five best friends had changed. Changed so badly, in fact, that they no longer recognised each other. And so, they packed up and left. Figuratively, of course.

At first, Amberly packed quite a resistance, being unwilling to see the others fall away without a fight. This looked to be the beginnings of a good old-fashioned war until Carrie, ever the peacemaker, had drafted a dinner in which to discuss their differences and (don't tell Amberly) confirm what they all already knew and say goodbye.

The dinner cleared everything up and they parted ways as mutual strangers with a history of friendship. Except Owen and Carrie, who had already decided that they would forever remain friends, if only to clear up Owen's debts. Or so they liked to joke.

Carrie reflected on her history with contentment and not even an ounce of regret as the wind threatened to blow her off the path and into the oncoming traffic. No, there was nothing she would change about how things ended with the NIFFlers, and she wouldn't trade her new friendships at uni for the world. In fact, it was rather sobering undergoing an intense remodelling of your mind and life.

_Speaking of sobering_, Carrie winced as the suddenly cold wind struck her forehead. Maybe she shouldn't have drunk so much last night...

That was another thing. Thanks to her eighteenth birthday being a month ago, she had just begun exploring Brisbane nightlife and boy was she having fun. Except for the hangovers. They could go jump of a cliff where they belonged. They were almost enough to get her to stop drinking.

But no, she was enjoying her newfound freedom _waaaay_ too much to let it go. And besides, wasn't that what people expected of teenagers anyway?

Just as she was thinking this, an especially strong gust of wind came out of seemingly nowhere and whipped Carrie's ponytail into her face.

~ Now, a lot of cultures and religions are stumped on the concept of fate. The leading argument is largely that fate is a whole lot of baloney and that free-will is an illusion (which seems kind of contradictory if you ask me. Of course, it is a well-known fact that humans thrive on nonsense, and flourish under baloney, so this is not for me to judge.). In many cases, fate is the driving force behind many actions and reactions. Of course, these situations still require humans in order for them to work, so the idea that free-will does not exist is rather counter-intuitive. Thinking of time and existence as a series of _possibilities_, one could say that at any given moment, _everything_ as well as _nothing_ is occurring simultaneously. For those of you who are familiar with Quantum Relativity, this concept will appear as a natural progression of thought, for the physical is only what you make of it. However, for those of you who prefer to spend your time away from such fancies, it may be a little harder to understand.

Say, for instance, that you are in charge of planning your sister's wedding. Everything has been going swimmingly, until two of the bridesmaids come to you with a conundrum. They need you to choose between red or white roses for the reception. Now Bridesmaid number 1 (we'll call her Beth) is of the opinion that white roses represent the purity and sanctity of marriage, which is, after all, what the ceremony is about. You agree with her and so the white roses are selected.

This results in 'Beth' befriending you and causing the second bridesmaid to storm off, bad-mouthing you to the first person she meets, who just so happens to be the man who you would have married if you had made a different choice. It also leads to 'Beth' sleeping with your lover because 'we're best friends, and best friends share _everything.'._

Yikes.

Let's step back a bit and suppose that Bridesmaid number 2 (Shall we say…Linda?) won you over with her argument that red roses were 'like _totes_ more romantic'. 'Linda' then proceeded to buy out the local florist (and the other 2 in the closest village) of red roses and line the walls in them, making the whole reception reek and set off one guest's pollen allergy (resulting in them needing to be rushed to the emergency room and your sister falling out with 'Linda' and calling you a 'basket case' for allowing such a fiend choose the floral arrangements – of course she had a bit of a case of Bridezilla).

Now, all of these seem like bad scenarios, and of course not at all desirable situations. However, this just illustrates that all of life's little choices can have unforeseen circumstances, but that the outcome may be predicted beforehand. The only reason these predictions often hold true is that _anything_ could happen and in the way of the future, anything _does_ happen. The main thing that decides which path we take is the choices we make along the way.

And for Carrie, fate was definitely the cause for what happened next.

Now blinded by her ponytail, Carrie dropped her viola case (don't worry, Jamie was okay), promptly stepped into a pot-hole, and stumbled onto the road.

Where she proceeded to get hit by a car.

And died.

(In case that wasn't obvious)


	2. Dead, not gone

A/N: Just want to pop in here with a quick 'G'day'.

Thanks to those who followed/fav'ed/reviewed, I really hope you guys enjoy this (hold on for the appearance of our favourite boy-band at the end of this chapter). Keep doing you and being amazing, my lovely people. Ahhh I love this fandom...

* * *

Chapter 2 – Dead, not gone

"Ow! Rude much?" Carrie pressed her hand to her forehead, pushing her ponytail out of her eyes and looking up at the car that was driving away. She pushed against the ground, lifting herself into a standing position and dusting herself off, mumbling under her breath. She turned and walked back to the footpath, the cars continuing to zoom along behind her.

Picking up Jamie, she proceeded to continue on her way. She froze as she slowly replayed the last five minutes in her head.

_Something was wrong._

What was it? Did she have something in her teeth?

She checked with her tongue. No, that was all clear.

Maybe she picked up the wrong viola case?

She looked down at Jamie. No, still had the 'Save the Narwhals' patch sewn onto the front that she had found in grade 7.

It clicked.

She had just been hit by a car.

It had gone right through her.

_Fuck._

"I see you've discovered the truth, Miss Lewis." The voice came from behind her, and Carrie slowly turned to see who had spoken. She blinked.

The man she was looking at was the most absurd thing she had ever seen, and if she was in a better state of mind, she might've laughed. He had two heads, one of which seemed shrunken and disproportionate as it sat on his shoulder like a parrot. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt with ridiculously coloured pineapples, paired with a pair of suit pants and shoes, and was holding in his hand a massive scythe. To finish off the look, he had on a pair of sunglasses with a nose and moustache attached.

She stared dumbly.

The man chuckled, "That _is_ one of the better reactions I've had."

This started Carrie out of her silence, "So I'm dead, then?" This was spoken calmly and, to be fair to Carrie, was greatly the product of her shock. It's not everyday one dies, after all.

The man shrugged, causing his second head to loll a bit to the side, "That depends on your point of view."

Shock was starting to catch up to her as she grew agitated, "I would say walking straight _through _a _car_ would qualify as _very _'dead'!" Her voice was bordering on hysterical at the end of her speech.

The man rolled his eyes, "Kid, you're dead. Just not gone. Please don't make my job any harder than it has to be."

Carrie paused for a moment, looking at him askance, "Your job?"

Seemingly impatient, the man huffed, "Look, kid. Do you want to get your 'Forever After' or not?"

"Um…yes?"

"Great!" He clapped his hands with a grin, "This is my favourite part." He whispered conspiratorially. Taking a step forward, he held out his hand toward Carrie. In it, he held a notebook. It was rather slim, with a plain black cover, and it seemed to whisper to Carrie as she studied it, brow furrowed.

"What's this?"

The man scoffed, "Only your one-way ticket to dreamland."

Carrie was confused, _dreamland?_

"Um. Okay?"

He shoved it closer to her, "Take it."

Hesitantly, she did so. It fit nicely in her hand, but still seemed rather unremarkable.

The man looked positively frenzied now as he watched her, "Go on, open it."

She looked down. Slowly, as if moving through jelly, she turned to the first page. She looked up, "It's empty."

He was practically jumping up and down on the spot as he sang out, "Of course it is!" Gesturing for her to keep going, he asked, "What are you waiting for?"

Shrugging, she did as she was told. The rest of the book was the same. All empty. Somewhere around the middle of the book, she noticed a light humming. Almost tempted to throw down the book, deck the madman in the face and run like hell, she decided to keep going. When she got to the end of the book, she looked up, closing the back cover over. All of a sudden, a bright light, seemingly stemming from nowhere and everywhere at once, encompassed her, blocking out her view of the street.

The last thing she saw before everything faded was the gleeful face (and parrot-like second head) of the strange man.

* * *

Coming to, Carrie felt around her with her hands, surprised to find she was lying on grass. Her hands caught something hard and she paused, cracking her eyes open and sitting up slowly. She looked down at what her hands had found and saw Jamie lying upside down in the grass. Suddenly frantic, she knelt beside her viola, flipped him over and opened the case, checking the instrument for damage. She sighed with relief as she saw he was in the same pristine condition as always. Thank goodness she invested in the more expensive, greatly better-quality hard case for him.

Her friends always teased her over how protective she was over Jamie, even going so far as to say he was the only one who would ever win her heart, but she couldn't help it. It wasn't just because of how expensive he had been, either. It was just that he was always there.

Music had always been a bit of an escape for her, something that was just _hers_. If anything, she was glad that he had survived the trip with her.

_Speaking of…_

She became aware of a weight in her pocket, and reached in to grab out whatever it was that had caught her attention.

She stared.

In front of her lay the black notebook. _How did that get in my pocket?_

She frowned. This really was not turning out to be her day.

With a sigh she stood up, Jamie in one hand, notebook in the other, and glanced around the clearing she found herself in. There was nothing remarkable about it, it was rather similar to the notebook in that regards, and yet she still found herself somewhat _connected_ to it (remember that pesky little thing called fate?).

Looking around again, she found a barely-there deer trail tracking through the trees. Shrugging to herself, and deciding there was nothing else for it, she walked forward.

To her destiny. Or whatever came first. She really had no preference.

* * *

With a growl, Carrie plucked (viciously tugged) a twig out of her hair from where it had gotten tangled five hairpin turns ago. This whole lost-in-the-woods thing was turning out to be one big bloody nuisance. She was forced to push aside branches and bushes and even, on occasion, spiderwebs, just to put one foot in front of the other.

And then there were the roots.

They just jutted up every which way, with no consideration for her poor Jamie. He had been bumped one too many times before she had finally just hooked the rarely-used straps over her shoulders, so he now sat quite happily on her back. Which was okay for _some_, she grumbled to herself.

Continuing to pick her way down the old beaten trail, she finally spotted some light a little way ahead. Putting her head back down, she moved a bit faster in the sudden hope of _being free_ from this mess. Then she could see Owen, play in his stupid ensemble, politely ignore Blake, give Rachel the finger (in her mind, of course) and try to forget this weird foray into the mystical realm of hallucination. She grimaced, okay, so maybe she should see someone about seemingly going mental.

_Surely, I didn't drink _that_ much last night. Unless, _she thought for a moment, suddenly flashing cold as she considered, _someone spiked my drink! That would explain the hallucinations! I bet I'm not even awake right now! I'm probably just…_

She froze as her ears picked up a soft scuffle in the distance. Straining to hear more, she swept her eyes over the surrounding trees, attempting to pick up any sign of movement.

After a minute and no sign of anything, she continued on, hesitantly. Coming to an opening of trees, she found herself in a wide clearing. There was nothing remarkable about it, it was rather similar to the notebook in that regards, and yet she still found herself– wait, what?

She groaned. All that, just to wind up back where she started? Of all the luck in the world…

Huffing she stomped into the centre of the clearing, pulling Jamie off her back as she went and sat down on the grass, stubbornly crossing her arms with a scowl.

Destiny was just going to have to come to her.

* * *

Darkness threatened as the sun trudged ever closer to the horizon. The moon, in all its' half-formed, not-quite crescent-shaped glory, after having been visible for half the afternoon, had disappeared behind a cloud to allow the sun centre-stage in its' final act of the day.

Quite chivalrous, really.

Ignoring how _noble_ the moon seemed to be toward other spatial entities, the boy glared at where it had vanished, imagining that the sheer force of his disapproval was what _really_ sent the moon running scared.

It was nice to feel like he had some modicum of control over the overgrown rock.

Glancing out over the tops of the trees, he could just make out the lights of the castle in the distance. He and his three friends often travelled through the forest to this secluded spot on a day off (and sometimes on school days too, but we're not going to mention that). They had found it by accident on one of their _moonlight_ endeavours, and had made it a point to come back a few times since.

The quiet, secluded clearing was backed by a cave, empty except for a few cobwebs and mildew. It really was the perfect spot for plotting. And anyway, what club could function without its' very own clubhouse?

Hearing the soft sound of hooves just over the little hill behind which he was standing, he tilted his head, "Oh, come on! We're going to miss it."

The answering snuffle made the boy grin. To anyone else, it would be interpreted as a threatening gesture, coming from the large animal, but he knew exactly what it meant.

"No need to get all huffy with me, Prongs. Someone's got to keep you lot in line."

A slight tug on his shoelaces made his look down. He smiled as he reached out a hand to the rodent running circles around his feet.

"Come on then, Wormtail. We'll leave these two prats behind, shall we?" The rat squeaked in agreeance as he clambered onto the boy's hand, from where he was moved up to his shoulder.

"Hold on."

With that, the boy, rat holding onto his jacket firmly, set off at a bit of a jog into the forest, two black shapes darting out after him, as he laughed, the sound joyous and carefree.


	3. Weird

A/N: G'day again.

I present to you...another chapter! (Are you impressed? I'm impressed.) Kay, have fun, you awesome people xx

And thank you!

* * *

Chapter 3 – _Weird._

Destiny was _really_ late.

In fact, destiny might just get a talking to when it arrived.

Carrie was getting fed up of this hallucination. At least before, when she was moving, it had been _interesting_. Now she just wanted to sink into the grass and disappear. She wondered if sink holes ever opened up under forests?

Either way, she was getting tired of waiting.

She had given up on sitting ages ago and was now lying on her back staring at the clouds as they passed, the fading light illuminating them in spectacular colour. Soon enough, the sun would disappear completely and she would be left in the dark. Not that it mattered much either way, she had about as much of a chance as getting out of here in the dark as she had in the light.

Sighing, she rolled onto her side, wincing when she felt something dig into her stomach. Looking down, she saw the notebook, _again_.

Sitting, she picked up the book, studying it with narrowed eyes and turning it over in her hands. The cover was smooth as she ran her hands over it. With her head cocked to one side, she considered her options.

One. Put the book away and try again to find a way out of here. Two. Wait here for something to happen. Three…yeah, no. She had nothing.

It was hopeless.

Tossing the book back down on the ground beside her, she resigned herself to starving to death here in the middle of nowhere, and letting her carcass be picked clean by whatever creatures inhabited the forest.

She grimaced. That was _sooo_ not a pretty picture.

Looking over at the book again, she groaned, scrubbing a hand across her face. She glanced at Jamie. Making a decision, she walked over to him and pulled him out of the case. Tugging her music folder out as well, she set up her place, slipped on the shoulder rest, and tightened her bow. Tucking Jamie under her chin, and gripping her bow, she got into position as best she could, sitting on the uneven forest floor.

She glanced at the notebook.

With a scowl and a '_fucking hell'_, she rested Jamie on his case and picked up the notebook. She opened it.

~ It might do to note here, that what Carrie just experienced is another phenomenon, similar to that of fate, which is actually quite common. A simple _compulsion_, while often misconstrued by humans as a 'gut instinct', is, in fact, not a human phenomenon at all, but a universal _call_ which guides the subject to a useful object.

Using the scientific principle of, _ahem_, 'As soon as something _can_ happen, it _does_ happen' (paraphrased, of course), this becomes evident. While the universe would be quite content to operate without such little niggling nuisances as _humans_ running around, life, uh, (as they say), finds a way. Hence, human involvement is sometimes necessary to _get the job done_.

Of course, this can be simply explained as the universe getting _'fed up'_ with the incompetence of humans and just plainly _'lending a hand'_. ~

As Carrie opened the book and glanced upon the first page, she got a sudden feeling that she was being watched. She, of course, ignored this as she was too busy staring in horror at the words written on the page in front of her. You're probably wondering why it was horror with which she observed the words, and I would love to explain, but that would simply be rude, as it was personal. I can, however, tell you this; it was not very nice for her to have to see.

"_Wha-? _Buggering…FUCK_!"_

So yeah, not a pleasant sight. At all.

* * *

Remus' ears pricked. He looked over at the shaggy-haired dog, who also had his head titled to the side with his ears strained, catching the barest hint of music floating through the air. Padfoot whined.

"Yeah, I know, Pads. I hear it too."

Shuffling forward, he caught the direction of the errant sound waves, and turned to the right. The dog and stag (who had the small figure of the rat in amongst his namesake), were already picking their way toward the sound as Remus crept along behind them.

It was not unusual for Nymphs and Satyrs to play their haunting tunes well into the night, but this sounded different. More…human.

~ Try as they might, humans have never quite managed to match up to the melancholy of other species. This could be due to their self-appointed spot at the top of the food chain resulting in them not _really_ having anything to be all that melancholy about.

Satyrs, as one of the more acerbic of species, often lament at the similarities shared by themselves and the human race, causing them to be mistaken as 'half-human'. Understandably, this is not desired by many of the species, as it is generally apparent that the human is the more unnatural of the two (they can often be found attempting as much distance between themselves and the natural, 'primitive', world. And honestly, they call _those_ things 'legs'? Jeez.). This general lamentation over the indignity of the world is what lends itself to their haunting music.

Nymphs are much the same. So little is understood of the nature of this species, that their lilting music could really be interpreted any which way, based off of the current emotions of the listener. In fact, many have driven themselves to madness attempting to discover the meaning behind the sounds produced by these mystical beings, only to find that they had arrived back at where they started. Nowhere.

Other such beings (examples being Centaurs and Goblins), also boast mournful and soulful music, the likes of which humans can only ever attempt to imitate (and very poorly, at that). This is what made this collection of soundwaves that much out of place.

And, seeing as they were the Marauders, it was their job to find out the source. ~

Trudging through the undergrowth, the group of boys (cleverly disguised as animals – well, except for Remus, but let's not be pedantic here) wound their way toward the sound. The last of the sun's rays were gracing the tops of the trees as they found themselves on a slim deer-trail. Following along in semi-darkness, ears pricked, they glanced at each other, silent conversation flying between them.

Making a mutual decision, the stag took the lead as they approached the clearing, dog holding back to protect the werewolf.

With one final glance, Prongs broke through the tree-line, disappearing from view.

The music stopped.

From his hiding place behind a tree, Remus frowned. He looked down at Padfoot, who had his head tilted to the side in concern, but his eyes locked onto his ward. With a gentle nudge, Remus gestured for him to go to the stag. After a quick argument involving head movements and much eyebrow raising, the dog was convinced Remus would be okay for all of _one _minute.

With all the subtlety of an elephant on a bus, the huge Grim leapt through the tree-line to face whatever danger his friend found himself in.

Which was exactly none.

But, you know, 10 points for enthusiasm.

* * *

She was halfway through Pachelbel's Canon in D Major when she became aware of someone watching her. Pausing in her playing, she slowly put Jamie down. Looking hesitantly over her shoulder, she froze at the sight behind her.

Standing just inside the clearing, looking at her almost shyly, was a majestic, if still juvenile, stag.

Stifling a small gasp, she turned fully to look at him, eyes wide in wonder.

"Oh, you're beautiful."

The animal almost preened under her praise, walking slowly forward and offering his head out to her. Laughing a bit under her breath, she obliged, stroking his silky fur as she marvelled at him.

"You must have heard me playing, huh?" She whispered to him, scratching him gently behind the ear, "What do you think? Am I passable?"

The stag tilted his head to the side as he considered her, earning another quiet laugh from the girl.

Despite everything, she was almost glad for this part of the hallucination.

Suddenly, crashing through the undergrowth, came a huge black dog, growling with his teeth bared as he landed, hackles raised. Carrie jumped, withdrawing her hand and stumbling back, tripping over a stick and landing heavily on the ground.

Rubbing her wrist slowly, she kept her eyes on the muzzle of the dog, making sure not to look him in the eyes.

Then something strange occurred.

[Which was saying something, as a lot of strange things had been happening recently (she had to say; she was beginning to understand how Alice felt).]

The stag turned to the dog and shook his head.

And the dog backed down.

Carrie blinked as she looked between the two creatures, "What the _fuck_?"

In unison, they turned to look at her. She rubbed her head; this was just_ weird._

"Okay. Just give me a moment."

She scrunched up her face as she replayed the events of the last – she glanced at her watch – six hours. Attempting to make sense of everything was giving her a headache.

"Right. Okay. Fine. This works. I'm fine. Completely sane. Not going mad. It's cool. This is totally normal."

She wasn't convincing herself.

By the looks the stag and Grim were exchanging, they weren't convinced either.

Hesitantly, the dog padded over to her, eyeing her curiously. He stopped in front of her and she turned her face to look at him from where she was still seated on the ground.

Looking him in the eyes, she spoke seriously.

"I'm not mad. I _promise_."

There was a snort from the stag, and the dog glanced back with a sharp bark of amusement. Carrie glared at them and crossed her arms as she protested.

"I'm not!"

She rolled her eyes at herself. _Great, _now she was defending her actions to animals as though they could understand her.

Which was ridiculous.

The stag walked over to stand next to the dog, butting him in the shoulder with his antlers.

Carrie smiled at the two animals standing in front of her and raised an eyebrow, "Well you two are just a real life Padfoot and Prongs, aren't you?"

The two looked at each other in confusion.

That was when the world shifted.

The cause? The boy stepping out from behind the tree.

Carrie stared dumbly. Again. She seemed to be doing a lot of that today.

"Um…hi?" She said stupidly.

"…hi." He had his eyebrow cocked as he studied her. Carrie shifted under his gaze and stood up, awkwardly holding her arms beside her.

They stood there in silence for a moment as they considered each other. It was broken by Carrie.

"So…do you come here often?"

This prompted a laugh out of the boy as he shook his head, "Not really, no."

Carrie smiled, "Me neither. You know, I may not have been here long, but I've been considering just packing up and moving out here permanently. It's much quieter than the city." She finished this with a quite sincere expression, her amusement showing only in her eyes.

"Oh, most definitely." The boy agreed, nodding along seriously, "I've often thought that nothing compares to the solitude of the forest."

They smiled at each other. The boy put his hands in his pockets as he started to rock back and forth on his heels.

"So…um…about what you said earlier, about Padfoot and Prongs?"

Carrie's face lit up, "You've read Harry Potter?"

The boy frowned as he spoke slowly, unsure, "No…not that I know of."

It was Carrie's turn to frown, "O-kay."

As if getting impatient, the dog let out a bark. And suddenly, there was another boy. One with shaggy black hair.

Carrie blinked, disbelieving her eyes despite everything she had already seen.

Not to be outdone, the stag disappeared too, leaving behind another boy, slightly shorter than the other two, wearing a pair of glasses.

And then, out of nowhere, the fourth boy appeared.

"_Fuck._"

It was quite an adequate word to describe the situation, all things considered. So was her next action.

She started laughing.

Hysterically.

The four boys looked at each other, helplessly.

_Weird_.


	4. Take that, Steve

A/N: Heya! I'm back!

Sorry but this chapter really did _not_ want to be written (Seriously, I think I only wrote like 24 words over 3 days). Either way, I hope you enjoy it as that is kinda the whole purpose of this Fanfiction thing...

Right well, thank you! Don't forget, you're all fabulous xx

* * *

Chapter 4 – Take that, Steve

The Marauders exchanged worried glances as they watched the strange girl who was currently in hysterics, curled up in the foetal position with her hands clutching the sides of her head.

This was _so_ not how they imagined spending their evening.

"Umm, miss? Are you okay?" James looked helplessly at the other boys as the girl continued laughing, tears streaming down her face, seemingly not hearing him.

Glancing around the clearing, Remus took note of the instrument and sheet music laid out over the grass. At least one mystery was solved, _she was a violinist_.

Sirius, following Remus' lead, looked around, eyes landing on the instrument and sparking in interest. He waltzed over, ignoring the now-sobbing girl (I know, I know. Life's not _that_ bad. But please, be kind to her, she's had a hard day), and reaching down to pick it up.

This sparked Carrie into life, "No! Don't touch him!" Sirius froze with his fingers inches from Jamie, looking at the girl in shock.

She jumped up, knocking Sirius out of the way and cradling her precious instrument to her chest.

With wide eyes, she looked from one boy to the next.

"He's mine."

The simplicity of the statement, paired with the absurdness of the last ten minutes, set James off in peals of laughter. Sirius soon joined in, barking out a laugh, while Peter giggled uneasily.

Remus glanced at the laughing boys, rolling his eyes with a grin before turning back to Carrie. He raised an eyebrow, his grin falling into a contemplative look.

Carrie reddened, clutching Jamie closer to her chest, "Um…"

"So…?"

Carrie shook her head, mumbling, "This is so fucked up."

"I mean, they're not _that_ bad." Remus stated, looking over at his friends, who had stopped laughing and were currently watching the two curiously.

This startled a laugh out of the girl.

"I know. It's just…you're not supposed to be…real." She thought for a moment, eyes wide, as she spoke almost with a twinge of horror, "Or maybe it's me who's not supposed to be real, and everything is like a world within a world within a world and it's like tumbling down the rabbit hole continuously, never getting to an end because there is no end, and death is just really moving on to the next stop, and nothing is real, but everything is happening because someone wrote about it, but then they only wrote about it because it happened, or is happening and…"

James stared in horrified fascination as Carrie rambled along, slowly backing away from the crazy girl, while Sirius and Remus just seemed confused and a bit concerned. Peter looked like he was contemplating turning into a rat and disappearing.

"…but then that man is maybe like the gatekeeper, sending you off to the next one, a bit like a train conductor or something, and I didn't even ask him any questions! That would have been the best thing to do, and now I'm stuck without answers in a world not my own, which is _literally fiction_ back home, and ugh! This is so…so…annoying!"

She stopped her flow of words with a thoughtful face. Coming to a decision after a good two minutes of head nodding and eyebrow raising, she mumbled, "Well, it seems I'm stuck here either way. So…"

Carrie looked over at the boys, offering her hand for them to shake, "Hi. I'm Carrie. I like classical music, hate lasagne and I'm not insane. Promise."

Sirius sauntered forward with a grin, "Well, I'm not so sure about your sanity, but I'll take it." He grabbed her hand and shook it, "Sirius Black."

"Whoa whoa whoa whoa! Hold up here!" James exploded, hands up as he stood between Sirius and Carrie, breaking up their hand shake. "Padfoot, you…this is…you just…what?" He stared dumfounded at the girl who simply grinned at him, before he turned his gaze to Remus as if asking him to please _pinch him so he could-wake-up-from-this-weird-dream-hell-THING._

Remus shrugged, before looking at Carrie and holding his hand out too, "Remus Lupin."

Carrie took his hand with a smile, "Nice to meet you."

James threw his hands in the air in exasperation, "Everyone is mental!" He looked at Peter, "You're with me on this, right Pete?"

Peter grinned sheepishly at James before offering _his_ hand to Carrie, "I'm Peter Pettigrew."

With a laugh, Carrie shook his hand, "Pleasure."

~ Okay okay, so we all know the story. Four friends, one betrayal, everyone finally dies after several years of pain, heartache and confusion, story over. Right?

Yeah, no.

Not always, at least.

Carrie and her friends had discussed this issue at great length (before the NIFFlers had been disbanded, of course), and had come up with several varying and conflicting views on the subject. _Some_ of the group (headed by a very irate Amberley) had been of the opinion that, 'Once a Betrayer, Always a Betrayer', and so, of course, had deemed that some destinies were just that, destined to be. And so, Pettigrew had been viewed as enemy number one. Always.

Others of the group argued that everything happened for a reason. That betrayal had to have a cause, and that, if you could prevent that cause, you could also prevent the betrayal. And so, they viewed the Pettigrew situation as a product of circumstance, and thought of _him_ as some kind of fallen angel, attempting to make right out of wrong.

Carrie, ever the Peacemaker, simply felt that people should be treated as people, and not their actions. So, while she abhorred the future actions of a one Mr Pettigrew, she decided nothing had occurred _yet._

As soon as those actions _did_ occur, however, she would rein judgement upon him in bucketloads.

(If you're wondering, there was one member of the group who couldn't care less about this discussion. He went by the name of Fenix and there was much pleading, begging and bribing aimed towards him by other members of the group to agree with them and to beat down the other fiends and their radical views. Fenix never quite cared enough to accept, however, and life moved on – not to mention, Fenix didn't really care much for anything, and so the promises of eternal IOU's were kinda pointless) ~

Grinning broadly at James, Carrie asked, "So, am I going to learn your name, or are you scared of me?"

"No…I…" James sighed, reluctantly holing out his hand as he spoke, "Hi, I'm James Potter. Now, if you're going to kill us, please make it quick?"

Carrie let out a bark of laughter, taking his hand and shaking it, "I'm not going to kill you, James Potter."

_This is so weird,_ she thought with a chuckle.

James grinned at her wearily, "I'm pretty sure that's what people say just as they're _about_ to kill you."

With a roll of her eyes, she turned away, huffing, "Yeah whatever." Crouching down, she pulled Jamie's case over to her, opening it and laying her precious viola on his silk-lined throne. Reaching for her bow, she began to loosen it, squinting up at the boys as she did so, "So, what are you gentlemen doing in the forest this fine evening?"

Peter squinted at the sky. More specifically, the inky blackness stretching from one side of the clearing to the other. "I think it's a little later than evening, personally."

Letting out a laugh, Carrie nodded, "That's fair."

Tucking her bow away, she spoke seriously, "No really. What are you guys doing here, rather than like...oh, I don't know, learning to pull a rabbit out of a hat up at that school of yours?" She suddenly looked at them, asking excitedly, "Are you lost too?"

Remus shook his head slowly, unsure what to make of the girl, "No, we're not lost. And while that explains why you're here, it still doesn't explain why you were playing that violin."

Carrie froze.

_No._ There was no way she had heard that right.

She did _not_ just hear Remus Lupin call her precious Jamie a…a. She gagged. A…_violin!_

Gods, the word even tasted foul when she spoke it in her head.

~ The thing you need to know about viola players, is that they _hate_ being mistaken for violinists. Try it. Go up to a viola player and compliment them on their violin. Trust me. Without a doubt, the first thing they will tell you is that 'it's not a violin, it's a viola'. Sometimes even, 'how dare you, you numpty!'. I once had someone attempt to murder me when I insisted that 'the violin is the most noble of the stringed instruments'.

So yeah. Don't infer anything you can't back up.

Or if you want, you could just, you know, call it a violin simply to piss them off. Works every time.

This internal battle was occurring in Carrie's mind currently, as she decided whether to maim, gut or kill the boy in front of her. ~

Outwardly, Carrie miraculously managed to keep her calm, as she spoke reasonably, "Actually, he's a viola."

The four boys jumped.

Carrie looked at them strangely, "What?"

James tilted his head to the side as he looked at her a bit warily, "You didn't speak for five minutes. You just went all quiet and froze up."

"Oh." Carrie blinked. So maybe she hadn't done such a good job pretending as she had hoped. She shrugged it off, "Sorry about that. I had to fight an urge, and I don't _really_ want to kill you."

"What?" The concerned voice of James Potter spoke up as the other three boys looked as though they were already questioning their logic in remaining talking to her rather than just running away screaming.

Carrie sighed. This was obviously not working.

"Look. I'm lost, confused, and just a little bit frustrated. Please can we just move along to the part where you help me?"

Sirius snorted, "Sure, weirdo. Where are you heading?"

Carrie contemplated her options for a moment. "Well, I _was_ trying to get to the Eisteddfod hall for Owen's orchestra practice. But then I _think_ I died, and so I don't really know anymore. So…Hogwarts, I guess?" She looked at the boys seriously, "I honestly just want to get out of this forest."

It was true. The trees were starting to give her funny looks. And she was _sure_ those two rocks had been gossiping about her behind her back. Not to mention the flowers. She was starting to get some premium stink-eye from the daisies.

Carrie shivered.

The Marauders looked at each other, having a conversation with their eyes, eyebrows and various other body parts. Carrie ignored this, choosing instead to glare at the huddle of the rocks by the tree-line, attempting to intimidate them.

_Ha!_ _Take that, Steve._

"Look, we'll take you up to the castle, and Dumbledore can decide what to do with you then."

Carrie jumped, startled out of her staring match with the inanimate piece of mineral by James' voice. She smiled.

"Thank you."

It seemed that their journey was just beginning.

And it was sure to be one hell of a ride.


	5. A Medley of Moments

A/N: Well shit. Sorry this took so long, but it's here now!

Thank you to everyone who has followed/faved/reviewed! You're all awesome, and I hope you enjoy this guy too!

* * *

Chapter 5 – A Medley of Moments

Carrie hummed as she walked along behind the four boys.

She supposed she should be a little more shocked at the whole falling-into-Marauder-era-Hogwarts, but at the moment she was happier to be finally getting out of this _dratted_ forest. Not to mention, she had already had a minor freak out back in the clearing; she was already feeling better.

~ I'm sure you'll all agree, shock is a brilliant sedative.

This is mostly evident in the instance of broken bones. If you've been unfortunate enough to have fractured a bone, you may know of this firsthand. If not, I would encourage – unless you're squeamish, then I _firmly implore_ you – to go ahead and YouTube broken bones at the Olympics. Specifically, the pole vault.

What you will see in this glorious piece of cinema is the literal _shin bone_ of the athlete on display for the world over. How the athlete is able to continue on being…well, conscious, is a bit of a mystery, solved by the ever-elusive shock factor.

If this isn't really for you, you could always go check out football player after-game interviews. Rugby is a dangerous sport and, most often, these players will be sporting some form of facial or bodily injury, complete with dried blood and black eye.

As you shall see, these players are completely *fine* thanks to shock factor ('fine' being the operative term. Generally, these players have developed a thick skull to protect their precious grey matter – nothing against football players, just a biological fact that serial concussions tend to have lasting physical effects).

This shock factor was currently how Carrie was managing to function with a degree of clarity. ~

Carrie smiled as she caught a snippet of the conversation between the boys.

"What do you think happened to her?" James asked, glancing back at her. She gave him a dazzling smile and he turned away with a look of panic.

She saw Sirius shrug, as Remus hummed, "I'm not sure. She seems like she could have been Obliviated. Made to believe some false history, maybe?"

Carrie snorted at this, and the four boys turned around, startled. Carrie grinned at them, "Please. I haven't been Obliviated, it's not even possible. I'm pretty sure I don't even technically exist yet," She looked thoughtful for a moment, "Actually, what year is it?"

The four exchanged a glance, but Carrie continued before they could respond, "Well, you guys look to be in maybe…seventh year? So…1977? Right?"

Remus cleared his throat, "1978. New years was two weeks ago."

Carrie hummed in response, hitching Jamie up higher on her shoulders, and clutching the notebook tighter in her hand as she skipped up next to the Marauders, ignoring their incredulous looks.

"So, how far is the castle?"

When they didn't respond, she looked back at them, sighing exasperatedly at their blank looks, "Look, I'm not going to kill you guys; I'm not physically capable of it. So, stop being scared of me, and lets' get out of this forest."

She turned back, and was about to keep walking, when she felt a burning sensation on her hand. Looking down, she saw the notebook glowing. Suddenly, realising the heat was coming from the notebook (and the pain starting to register in her brain), Carrie dropped it, hissing in pain.

"Fuck!"

She crouched down beside the book, studying it as she sucked on the burn marks on her fingers. Grabbing a nearby stick, she prodded the book. Not the most useful method to determine whether it was hot or not, but Carrie was running on fumes here.

"You're a nasty little bugger, aren't you?" She muttered, continuing to prod the book thoughtfully.

She frowned, eyeing the Marauders, who were staring at her funny again. With a smirk, she thought that there wasn't much more she could do that wouldn't have them running for the hills, and so decided to have a little more fun with them.

Suddenly putting on a thick Australian accent (just ask an Aussie – you can always put on a more Australian accent. Most of us don't sound like they do on the TV), she gestured with the stick, addressing the Marauders as though they were an audience.

"Look at this beauty! Most members of this species live anywhere from five to seven years." She pretended to shy away from the book, "Woah! Settle down there, mate. I'm not gonna hurt ya."

Dropping the act, she picked up the book, standing up and tucking it under her arm, grinning at the boys, "Ready to go?"

They didn't respond, but Carrie didn't care.

Steve Irwin was life.

* * *

The world was dark, and the light of the single solitary candle did nothing to combat the inky blackness. The figure – invisible if not for the glint of his eyes in the faint candlelight – sat stock still, unmoving from his post against the cool brick. His cloak fluttered around him as a door opened, laughter and light spilling through.

Two people exited, hanging onto each other as they laughed, the door swinging closed behind them and dousing the world in darkness again.

The man watched the pair as they walked off toward the faint outline of the lake, their laughter being quickly swallowed by the night. He pulled his cloak around him tighter, moving for the first time since the sun disappeared.

Not for the first time, he wondered why he was still sitting here. It was obvious that the event he was waiting for was not going to happen. Perhaps the man had been wrong.

He shook his head. The man had not steered him wrong yet. He would just have to wait.

He settled back down, eyes returning to their post of searching the inky blackness for the light.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore had seen a lot in his lifetime.

From dragons, to mermaids, cults to dark wizards, and even a whole lover-to-betrayer-to-enemy story arc. He had seen hundreds of students pass through the hallowed halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry – some more talented than others – and had served as the professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration and even the Headmaster. He held positions in the International Confederation of Wizards (as Supreme Mugwump), and the Wizengamot.

Yes, Dumbledore had seen a lot.

Still, nothing had prepared him for the Marauders.

The four boys were troublesome. Highly intelligent and mischievous – a dangerous combination. Dumbledore often got a chuckle out of their so-called pranks, and it did amuse him to see how vexed they made Minerva. More often than not, the boys could be found in one or other of the teacher's offices, in trouble for _something_. Every once in a while, they even ended up sitting in front of Dumbledore.

And then there were the boys themselves.

Young Remus Lupin, whose mother – despite being a muggle herself – had reached out to Dumbledore to plead with him to allow her son to attend Hogwarts. The boy had arrived at Hogwarts full of childhood angst, to an extent that Dumbledore had only seen a handful of times in the past – most recently in a student by the name of Tom Riddle. Initially, the wizened warlock had been concerned that young Lupin would traverse the same path as his predecessors, but thankfully, he had gained supportive friends in the likes of Mr Pettigrew, Potter and Black.

Ah yes, the oldest Black brother. One that Dumbledore had been most surprised at. His sorting into Gryffindor had been a pleasant surprise – which the reasoning behind had quickly become apparent. The boy was a menace. Both in and out of classes. It made Dumbledore glad that he was no longer teaching.

James Potter. Another young Heir, and a natural trouble maker. Loud and brash and quite amusing in his affections for the Muggle-born Lily Evans. Dumbledore had always been a fan of Love, and had concocted a – quite dastardly, if he did say so himself – plan to bring the two in closer contact. Who knew? Perhaps sharing a common room would result in a miracle?

Despite his match-making designs, Dumbledore truly believed that James Potter would make a good Head Boy.

The fourth member of the group, Peter Pettigrew, was the one who most drew Dumbledore's interest. A wild card, the boy had the potential for great things, but could also give in to his insecurities. Dumbledore hoped that Pettigrew would be able to battle his demons – as the muggle's say – and see how solidly he was needed by his friends. He was the keystone, the mortar that kept the Marauders together, and if he could come to see this, he could accomplish anything.

Yes, Dumbledore hadn't ever seen anything quite like the Marauders.

And he was quite enjoying the experience.

* * *

Eadar grinned as he etched another carving – this one of a Mammoth (shame when they went extinct, really) – onto the handle of his scythe. The instrument was handy in identifying himself to his passengers, but not a lot else.

He was aware that his appearance didn't quite match with the way he was generally depicted, but he had his predecessor to thank for that. Really, what kind of moron thinks that a thick black cloak and anaemia is stylish?

Not to mention, letting yourself be seen by pedestrians?

Amateur.

Either way, Hawaiian print was _much_ better than whatever that _clown_ wore. But still, it had given the job a rep. Eadar's parents had been so ecstatic the day he had received the crow telling him he had been selected as the new 'Grim Reaper'. It had been the appointment of a lifetime, according to them.

Eadar hadn't been so thrilled.

But he had to admit, the job did grow on him, after a while. Seeing his ex-passengers floundering around the country-side wherever he had dropped them off was most definitely his favourite part.

Occasionally, he would be given a group assignment by the Soul Department (Soul Depo, for short), and get to see the humans react to finding one of their own in the destination world. He always loved those ones the best.

_Yes_, Eadar thought, as he put this finishing touches on his Mammoth and studied it in satisfaction, working as the Grim Reaper definitely came with its' perks.

* * *

A/N#2: Worth mentioning; Read if interested/actually care: I just kinda went onto google translate with Eadar's name. I ended up with Scottish Gaelic and the words 'in between'. That kinda just made sense to me.

Also I don't think I'm going to include him much more but I thought out his story so I'll put it here in summarised form in case I decide not to do anything about it.

I kinda figured that it's a parallel world for people who kinda live forever but kinda don't (I didn't think this part through very well). So he is born, yeah? His parents named him literally 'in between' because they wanted him to take the 'top job', ya know. Kinda like how parents will sometimes name their kids after their rich grandparents in the hopes that they will win favour and be chosen to inherit everything (my uncle and aunt did this and even got the same dog as them and followed in their weird dog-naming tradition of any name beginning with 'b' [no joke, Barney, Bobby, Bertie, Bill...]).

Right so, the 'Grim Reaper' retires, the job comes up for grabs. Parents have been sneakily sending off letters in Eadar's name - at this point, he's living on their sofa, so they are more than entitled to want rid of him. Suddenly, one day, as the family is all sitting down for breakfast, in comes a crow! *gasp* It's for Eadar! *double-gasp* He's the new Grim Reaper! *triple-gasp-with-a-cherry-on-top*

He hates in at first, like sending people to the wrong places and shit. Not handing out the right equipment, or just giving them like...a rubber duck and telling them his name is Jerry and their eternal job is to make sure Jerry is safe.

Shit like that.

He has to go to like, Grim Reaper therapy, where everyone is always telling him how envious they are of him and shit. And he's not having any of it. Like, he's so annoyed with this shit that he tries everything to get out of it. Except he's the Grim Reaper, so he can't exactly reap himself, can he?

So he turns up in weird and wonderful costumes, attempting to get fired. But all they do is clap him on the back, like, "The position needed a revamp, good initiative."

He's so frustrated he like...can't even.

...Yeah, that's all I got so far. Anyone wanna continue it along?

(Sorry for the gigantic rant. I got it in my head and needed to release it to the world.)

\- PPP xx


	6. Let's get drunk

A/N: It's December! Here comes Christmas music and trips to the beach and a shit-load of tinsel. I just love Christmas traditions.

In the spirit of all things Christmassy, allow me to present...chapter 6! [Take the title how you will. A suggestion, invitation, order, whatever]

Thanks to my lovely reviewer, PrincessMagic. I'm glad you enjoyed my little ramble, rather than just dismissing it as the product of little sleep, cabin-fever and stress-induced-mania (which it was but, hey. What are you gonna do?)

Thanks as always to everyone who has read/followed/faved and continue to read and stick with me. I have a point, don't worry!

* * *

Chapter 6 – Let's get drunk

The castle loomed, appearing suddenly over the hill and the group of five stepped out of the forest. The building was mostly shrouded in darkness, with only a handful of windows lit up – the firelight a flickering orange.

Carrie looked up, straining her neck as she took in the sight of Hogwarts.

"Fuck. Me." She breathed in wonder.

"Um…no thanks." James responded. Carrie looked back at him and rolled her eyes, and James shrugged with a wry grin, "Don't want to catch the crazy."

Carrie grinned at him, before turning back to the sight in front of her. It was even more spectacular than she had thought it would be. With its' turrets, and battlements, the old and ancient brick, scorched in places and standing tall against the elements.

She was drawn out of her reverie as she realised the Marauders had walked away, already halfway up the hill. Adjusting Jamie on her back, she jogged after them, looking at the ground as she ran so she didn't trip on a root or a rock or, you know, a snake.

She wondered if there were many snakes around here.

"Hey, you lot!" She called out. The Marauders basically ignored her, only Remus really paying her any attention, and even then, he simply flicked his eyes towards her for a moment. Carrie didn't care, "Are there many snakes around here?"

"Only Adders," Remus replied, "And they're all hibernating now."

Carrie almost stopped moving, "Wait. No snakes? Fuck yeah!"

This was great! This was amazing! This meant she didn't have to watch her ste–

She tripped on a root and fell forwards, bracing herself with her hands.

This was really _not_ her day.

She sighed as she waved the Marauders away.

"It's cool. I'll get there eventually."

The four of them looked at each other before shrugging, almost in perfect unison – Carrie wondered if they practiced that – and continuing up the hill.

They had delivered her to the castle. She could find her own way from there.

_They_ had a party to get to.

* * *

Carrie had been wandering around for a few hours now, and she was no closer to–

Wait. Never mind. Found the Gargoyle.

Now for the password…

* * *

It wasn't often that Albus Dumbledore was thrown completely off-kilter.

Not that he had been, this was simply a fact of nature. A lovely little fact I thought I would share with all you lovely little people.

No, Dumbledore was completely in control.

This poor girl sitting in front of him was obviously lost and confused – Obliviated, he suspected.

So, he did what any benevolent harbinger of good would do.

He offered her a place to stay while he investigated into who she was and whether she would be useful in the upcoming war.

It wasn't often that Albus Dumbledore was thrown completely off-kilter, after all.

* * *

"You again."

Carrie turned around with a grin, looking at the boy standing in the doorway to Dumbledore's office.

"Me again." She agreed.

"Ah, Mr Potter. Thank you for abandoning your festivities to come see an old coot such as myself, so late at night."

Carrie looked at Dumbledore in disbelief. He _honestly_ spoke like that? That was a law-suit just waiting to happen.

James seemed unfazed. "Good evening, Professor."

Carrie zoned out the inevitable conversation going on around her, not wanting to hear James' reaction to her staying in the Head dorms for the night.

As she thought, she wondered about what would happen to her if she died in this world. Would she go on to some other literature…place, or would it be all over? She had definitely died in her world, which rather sucked, if she was honest, but she had no idea how it all worked now.

Maybe this was her version of the afterlife?

She didn't really know, and the notebook hadn't told her much.

She shrugged; it didn't matter either way. Whatever happened, happened, and she couldn't do anything to stop it. Probably.

She stood up, following a rather sullen-looking James Potter out of the office and through the halls, until they arrived at a portrait of a knight.

"Sir Cadogan!" Carrie said automatically, her HP trivia coming in handy as she studied the portrait.

James looked at her weirdly, but didn't say anything, leaning in close to the portrait to whisper the password. The painting swung open, and James stepped through, Carrie following behind him.

James faced the three boys strewn across the various furniture of the room, saying grimly, "Let's get drunk."

* * *

Lily Evans prided herself on several things.

One; her status as a Muggle-born. As amazing as the wizarding world was, they didn't have _anything_ like the Beatles. She couldn't give up John Lennon for the world.

Two; her adherence to rules. After all, rules were in place for a reason, yes? Not to mention, it had paid off in her appointment as Prefect, and later Head Girl.

And three; her membership of the house of Gryffindor.

Now, these last two things may seem contradictory to some, but to Lily Evans they followed quite naturally.

Adherence to rules didn't mean that she wouldn't deck a bigot in the face, as her Gryffindor nature demanded, for instance. After all, if said bigot had been breaking rules in the first place, well…fairness said that retribution must be handed out.

Which was where she currently found herself.

She looked down at the boy lying on the floor, clutching his head in pain, with satisfaction.

Evans Rosier was your typical high school bigot; parroting all the teachings his parents preached, and truly believing himself to be bigger and better than his peers. He had been a menace to Lily, ever since he had pushed her out of the boats at the start of first year. He needed to be taught a lesson.

And if she was lucky, she might have even broken his nose!

Yay for Lily!

She nodded once, before turning in a flurry of red and making her way to the Heads dorms. She was feeling a bit peckish after dealing out that bit of retribution. It was probably time to crack out that ice cream she had stored in the Heads kitchen.

* * *

The door to the Heads common room opened.

Carrie spun around to see a red-headed girl in the doorway.

"Eyyyy! It's Lily!" She cheered.

Lily blinked, "Do I know you?"

Carrie grinned, "Not at all!"

"Riiight." Lily drawled uncertainly, gesturing to the staircase, "I'm just going to…"

Her path was blocked by a grinning James Potter, "Oh, come on Lils. Stay with us for a while." He gestured behind him, "We've got Firewhiskey."

Lily raised an eyebrow, and crossed her arms, adjusting her stance, "No thank you."

"We're going to tell stories!" Sirius pipped up, struggling to stand from where he was seated on a bean bag.

"There's just something so..._freeing_ about telling your whole life story to strangers, you know?" Carrie joined in, grinning at the girl, who looked at her warily.

"Whatever you say, weirdo. But that doesn't mean I'm joining you."

James looked at the Head girl pleadingly, "Please, Lils? Just for a little while?"

Lily tore her eyes away with effort and crept slowly towards the staircase, "I know what you mean when you say "a little while", James Potter."

"Please, Lils? For me?" James gave her his best puppy eyes, and Lily glanced once more between the stairs and the boy in front of her. They could see she was giving in.

"Oh, fine!" She held one a finger before James could cheer, "But I'm not drinking."

James' eyes sparkled as he grinned at her.

"Of course not."

* * *

Naturally, as always happens when someone utters those fateful words, Lily Evans was drunk.

Proper drunk. Like pissed-as-a-skunk drunk.

It was quite amusing to see, actually.

She was currently standing on the table, singing a lovely rendition of Yellow Submarine. She was a little bit pitchy, but the song was still recognisable for what it was.

James Potter on the other hand…

Well lets' just say, none of them could understand a word he was saying.

Carrie enjoyed all of this from her seat on the sofa, sipping her vodka (that she had found in her jacket pocket with the words, 'You're welcome' written on a tag – she could only guess the man with the scythe had gifted it), and idly chatting with Remus Lupin and Sirius Black.

"And then this man appears, right? Wearing this –_ hic –_ Hawaiian shirt, and with like, two heads, and he gives me a book and I – _hic_ – open it and then suddenly I'm here."

Okay, so she was maybe a little past tipsy, but it wasn't like Remus and Sirius were actually going to remember any of this. She glanced over at them, before quickly averting her eyes.

The two boys were in lip-lock.

She looked over at where Peter was curled up asleep on the sofa.

She shrugged, at least no-one had been listening to her.

She took another sip, watching as Lily and James finally fell silent, collapsing exhaustedly onto the ground, Lily with her head on James' lap.

Carrie smiled softly, deciding to leave the group be.

Standing, she picked up her bottle of vodka (how in the _hell_ was it half-empty?), and carefully wove her way to the door.

With one last glance back at them, she slipped through the entranceway and out into the corridor.

It was time to explore.

* * *

The castle was quiet at night.

It was his favourite time to walk around it. In all the stories he had heard, the castle was rarely described – instead focusing on the history and events which had occurred within its walls. Alex had been blown away the first time he had seen it.

Now, three weeks after his arrival at Hogwarts, Alex was starting to understand how the castle had become a second home to so many students. It really was a haven of all things good.

He strolled the halls with his hands in his pockets, finally having given up on finding the light his book had mentioned, and enjoying stretching his legs for the first time in hours. The party had finished ages ago, and the last of the students had disappeared off to the common rooms.

He was all alone.

Or so he thought.


End file.
